Sunflower Seeds
by Penrose Quinn
Summary: "If the time comes I get this cast off, I will kill you, yokai." He spat spitefully. "Go ahead. I'm not stopping you. I'm sure that'll go smoothly with that broken leg of yours." After catching himself in the most humiliating predicament, Ryuji Keikain is under the care of the being he loathes the most. Seven weeks of hell told in sweet, saucy snippets. Ficlet
1. 1

**A/N: **Thank you for reading! Hello, readers of old and new, I return once again to the Nura archive! First of all, this was supposed to be a one-shot, but it was just too long. I meant it. _Looooong_. Actually, I've already finished halfway through. But, I just had to cut it in small parts. Just enjoy it while you can.

Now, I made a drabble (or was it snippet?) -like story with Ryuji albeit the fact that his character was a tough one. But, there's no harm in challenges, right? I hope I served his character justice! Oh, yeah, this will be a short story in shorter, choppy snippets due to the fact that this was meant to be a one-shot (very looooong, one-shot at that) and that you can't expect an omnyoji softening for a pacifist – slash – odd yokai so soon, right? Still, I hope you enjoyed it!

One more thing, supportive reviews would be nice too.

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**Week: 0 | Day: 0**

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If the world was monotone, sundered into black and white…

Yokai would be the absolute darkness.

He devoted onto these words religiously from the very moment he began to learn his fair fill of knowledge. It was his absolute principle. A universal canon which he refused to be breached or sullied.

Yokai are a nefarious existence. A black plague sprawled upon the world to corrupt it with its malice. They live behind the inkiest shadows of the night, showering their fear and bathing upon the blood of the innocent. An abhorred existence. The embodiment of evil itself.

On the contrary, the essence of this gave birth to the mysterious heroes. Onmyoji – on the other hand – is the impeccable light. The chosen ones left to cleanse evil from the world. They are the _absolute _justice. He _is _justice.

Those ideals were his pillars of strength. He lived, breathed, and lived to tell the tale about it as it circled his entire world. It was his _life_.

Somehow, a lone woman opposed his belief…

"_If you believe in that nonsense, you must be stupider than you look, onmyoji."_

That damn wench.

If he had not caught himself in such a humiliating predicament, he would have killed her before this mess begun.

With a light wince, the ponderous hoods above his dark twin pools threatened to rise. Quite sorely, if he might add. Speaking of pain, a wave of it surged onto his entire system with relentless might. Damn. It hurt like bitch. He endeavored his best to arch his back from the sheets he laid upon, but alas, it concluded heightening his distress. Much to his dismay, he was left onto the deep comfort of a mat alone with bindings on his injuries. And he _loathed_ the utter sensation of vulnerability. "Damn." He hissed in vexation as his fist collided with the floorboards.

"I wouldn't move if I were you." A suave, silken voice intervened. His glare scoured the _familiar_ voice's owner only to catch a meek-looking woman who held a glout upon her lips – less enthusiastic of his presence. She was clad in a vibrant, sunglow yukata which contrasted her crown of glorious, ebony locks. But, her guise was no surprise to him. What truly piqued his interests were those sheen, amber irises that glittered with such intensity. The eyes of a predator. The very same ones which flared underneath the moonlight that night ago.

_This woman…_ How could he forget the blasted memory of last night's events?

"What did you do to me?" spat the loathing Ryuji Keikain, his eyes darkening in detest and caution. "_Yokai_."

A hopeless sigh draped upon her lips, unimpressed. "You're stupider than what I expected," she neared him a little bit despite his hostility, and sat to his right with a proud and poise stature. Even if he was impolite and confirmed _dangerous_, she wouldn't dare show the slightest quiver of fear. "I thought you would have figured it out by yourself." Her words highlighted the deeds she performed to _aid _him. Weren't the bandages obvious?

On the other hand, his blood was boiling with spleen. _That wench_. The thought of her existence was an abomination and he detested it like how he saw the rest of her kindred. Though, this wasn't exactly the reason why he was awfully pissed. She _dared _to call _him_, a feasible candidate as the head of the Keikain Clan and a professional exorcist, _stupid_. Twice. His jaws clenched. She'll regret insulting him. His fingers wandered off to his shikigami though it was nowhere near within his reach. Actually, all of it was gone.

"Stop playing pointless games," the sooty-haired man sneered. His ashen orbs locked upon her collected ones. "Where did you take away my shikigami?"

Her brows raised but settled right after. "I hid it." _And whatever monstrous being resided in it, I don't want to see it again. _Last night was like watching an existent nightmare. If the black-haired lass could recall, this crude exorcist awakened a grisly fray with a potent ogre which dwelled among the Mountains of Hira. Haplessly for her, she was one of the many ayakashi who abided within its mystic forest.

If she would have been given a chance, she could have wished to have not witnessed that gory fracas.

"Give it back." An order abruptly barked from his mouth.

Puffing, her chest heaved heavily. Her knees glided towards him. She raised her voice in a scolding-like fashion with her resolute, golden eyes coinciding against the level of his feral, slate glare, "Not until you become nice," was her miffed complaint. Was she serious? Truth be told, he never did expect that absurd response. "You acted nothing more but an ass to me when I started tending your wounds."

"I never asked for your help, yokai." The onmyoji retorted in an unpleasant octave.

"And you take back what you said last night about yokai being evil!"

His lips twisted into a smug smirk that hailed onto all the imperiousness he preserved for his absolute code. Ryuji could scrutinize how her dark brows knitted in spurn. Her lips thinned, tightening in form due to her ground jaws. And, the most vivid trait was the blaze from her irises which charred even the most brazen of hearts into lumps of coal.

Was she that upset of his words? Well, it took more than a prissy woman to shatter him. "Yokai _are _evil." He emphasized further as her glower grew livid to his liking. "That will never change."

"Not all of them!" her chin tipped in defiance. "You onmyoji judge yokai with your self-proclaimed principles, but not even once did you judge us through actually understanding the rest of us! You find us as some sort of threat. Some plague that should be rid of. Did you not think that there were some who were actually good?"

His mouth conjured a snide snicker. Like he'll bother to listen to a yokai's words. "If you pursue on converting my ideals, you can't expect anything from me in the end."

A sigh escaped from her lips. This stubborn man certainly jarred her nerves – the only one who dutifully did so. "Well, it wasn't my intention to change your opinions either way." Just another hopeless case. He was obstinate and an _onmyoji_ for goodness sake! He must have thought of her conceptions as some sort of preposterous fallacy— a waste of time. Flipping a strand of hair, she shifted her topic, "Why were you messing with a powerful oni in a late hour anyway?"

He huffed with an air of haughtiness. "It is my duty to annihilate yokai the moment I encounter it."

Her brow curved. "Even if that oni did no such thing to disturb anyone?" she knew that oni held no allies or foes and had no ill intent for the lives of idling mortals who sauntered about, unless provoked. Yet, he murdered that mighty being with that ghastly beast he tamed, smirking in such triumph and sheer malevolence. The mere memory made her skin flinch.

With his smirk still traced onto his lips, he replied what he believed was a satisfying answer, "For yokai, its existence enough is a valid reason for it be rid of this world." He did not give a damn towards the _yokai_ he conversed with even if it was possible that his words could have pricked her.

Though, a peculiar reaction was what he was graced. The maiden wore the smallest of smirks quite slyly. "Ah, but the latter costed quite dearly for you though, _baka_ onmyoji."

That wench gibed him once more. What he riled more than being jeered upon by a yokai was that if this certain yokai succeeded in its attempt and took the last laugh, leaving him grim with a bitter after taste. His eyes were dusky with ire and the faintest sparks of chagrin. If only he was not in such a foul condition – alongside with his shikigami being kept away and his defenses left to a minimum – he would have crushed every bit of spirit left within her until she was penitent of pestering an onmyoji. "If the time comes I get this cast off, I _will_ kill you, yokai."

Her amber orbs twinkled in amusement. "Go ahead. I'm not stopping you." Sarcasm pooled in her every tone. Her legs hoisted her up with a mirthful smile as she distanced herself from his ruffled self and towards her stashes of remedies and herbs. "I'm sure that'll go smoothly with that broken leg of yours." She chuckled lightly, trampling him further in shame.

He was in a stir. Pissed. His teeth brayed in bile. Fists rounded in fury. The Keikain juvenile was awhirl, refusing any sort of sign of defeat from a _female yokai_. She nimbly upper-handed him with such small words and even _laughed _at him. This was humiliating and he hated it more than anything in the world. "Damn it!" he muttered under his breath with another string of vulgar curses. He _despised_ the agony that struck his pride that could never even the pain of his fractured leg.

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**Disclaimer:** I do not own Nurarihyon no Mago.


	2. 2

**A/N: **Thank you for reading and I really do appreciate those reviews! Well, it's shorter, but I already warned all of you about _really_ short chapters. But, I hope you enjoy!

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**Week: 0 | Day: 1**

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Dawn radiated with a roseate glow.

It was a sight to behold. The tanuki yokai was always fond of the morn skies which danced with vibrant golden rays as if it granted her life a fair fortuity. She loved the proud sun the most for it held the most uplifting charm. Brilliant, bold, and eternally resplendent. With a mild stretch and a smile, the daybreak heartened her mood. _Off to work…_

But…

Her limber fingers cradled a bowl of porridge in anticipation for high hopes that he _finally _accepts it. It had already been minutes. Apparently, the dark-haired omnyoji did not bother humoring her amiable act or sparing her a glance as if he was more intrigued of the blank space in front of him. Her lips were dressed in a frown. This was becoming a nag. "If you won't eat, you won't leave here sooner." She advised calmly.

He glared back at her through his nonchalant eyes with a snort. Obviously for the sake of watching her embarrass herself.

"It's not poisoned."

His brow arched in suspicion.

A weary sigh shot out of her lips. Damn jerk. She wouldn't allow herself to be undermined by the likes of him! The persevered chit clasped a spoon in her hand then scooped the mushy substance and shoved it to her mouth confirming that there were clearly no hazardous concoctions in her dish. As she swallowed, she offered him the bowl prying him to procure it off her hands.

After awhile, he grappled onto his meal and proceeded on slurping it. Her lashes batted owlishly. He meant stalling her _on purpose_. There was no need to nettle her if he really disrelished their last conversation yesterday! Arresting the signs of frustration etched on her face, a satisfied smirk planted on his mouth while she merely sent him breathy "hmph!" with her arms crossed.

Retreating from his content figure, she settled her scarlet temper through pouring herself a cup of tea. Such an ungrateful man. _A little respect would be appreciated._ Her thoughts cooed as she sipped onto her warm drink.

Though his disposition was left in delight, one fact came to plague him. The weather was blistering! It was fortunate that he had a – sturdy enough – roof to shade him and sustenance to keep him hale. Albeit being graced with a power in par with the infamous beasts that wreak havoc in the dead of the night, he was still mortal in the end.

His brows furrowed irritably. He didn't fancy the idea of asking favors to a _yokai_. His ego wouldn't allow it.

Ryuji licked his chapping lips. His throat parched. "Oi," he drawled. "Can I have some water, yokai?"

For the smallest instances, her face lit, but sagged the moment she heard what he called her. Just _yokai_. Not _Miss_ or bother to _even ask her what her damn name was_. Her lips released a sigh and dashed off only to return with glass of cool water in her hand. As she lent him his refreshment which he snatched fleetly – unlike, the fussy episode earlier, her hands grappled her hips. "You could at least gratify my treatment by not calling me 'yokai' all the time," a sullen pout resumed onto her ruddy lips. "And I would have given you my name if you just asked."

For a moment, he stared at her chafed disposition. Then, an amused smirk molded onto his lips. "Then, wench."

Another forlorn sigh. "You are the most horrible human I have ever met."

"My pleasure."

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**Disclaimer:** I do not own Nurarihyon no Mago.


	3. 3

**A/N: Thank you again for reading!**

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**Week: 1 | Day: 7**

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"How long is this going to heal?"

His tedious, despondent voice wounded her courtesy. That was a surprise. The onmyoji wasn't particularly one to begin conversations, except for possible heated pothers. Though, she did understand the reason behind his depressing character. Days soared like a vanishing flock of birds in the sky and the state of his dead leg made it obscure for him to ever depart. Despite that, he lacked the presence of humans, he had nothing to do, and freedom was faint— he couldn't even take a whiff of fresh air.

_And _most of all, he was stuck in a rustic cottage with the being he abhorred the most.

"Oh, you finally spoke," Her voice held little spryness. Her thumb cupped her chin as she mused. "Possibly, six weeks. Eight if that fracture is worse."

He groaned in frustration.

"You know, you would have avoided this if you didn't just go harassing an oni in the middle of the night." The black-haired maiden twitted merrily, but much to his dismay, her answer did naught to lift his spirits. He hated being reminded of his lubber blunder.

"Shut up." He scoffed in disdain. "I get it."

"Is someone dear waiting for you to return?"

That query hit him. His mouth was sealed. It had already been a week though it wouldn't have alarmed a few members of the Keikain Clan. Ryuji didn't mind it that much. He wasn't the type to shut himself with ivory walls and sleek wooden floors. He cherished the crisp gale that brushed his ebony locks along with the fact that he had spent most of his time – his entire life – risking himself in perilous situations for the sake of proudly waving the bandana of justice to the nether fiends. The elders always did ween him much to their expectations. A great onmyoji.

This was what he was trained for anyway. No one might even think if he somewhat caught himself in plight.

"...Yura."

His sister? Not even close. If it was her, she would not even bother to ponder what events took part to him, especially after that time he nearly took her life and that hanyo companion of hers – who, apparently, was the Nurarihyon's grandson. Despite that, she would have no inkling that he managed to break his leg and is within the care of a yokai. On the other hand, he wouldn't really mind if she was ignorant of it. It would have been embarrassing as an onmyoji and as her _elder brother_ to be caught in a position like this.

"Hm? Is she a relative?" her question snapped him from his reverie.

"Younger sister." He stated flatly. A brow rose. "Where are you getting at, yokai?"

An idle shrug resumed onto her shoulders. "Nothing. Just curious." Then, the corners of her mouth quirked a grin. "But that's a good thing."

"A good thing?"

"That someone still cares for you despite being a rude ass." Her oblivious response gained her a frown and a displeased glower. Much to his annoyance, this gladdened her current mood. A genuine chortle crept to her mouth. That face was _priceless_. "Don't give me that look, I told you before to drop calling me 'yokai'." She accused defensively. Well, she had a point. But, he could care less.

Waiving her anticipation for any backlash – since he shushed himself instead, she notioned with glee, "I'll change your bandages." Her feet gently strode to his side with her arms cradling a crisp batch of bandages and herbs. As her delicate fingers came forth to dispose of his worn wrappings, he stilled in silence. His trained eyes were left to wander keenly on every motion made by her limbs as they braced his leg with its cast with such profession and patience.

There was a point in time he grew bemused of this dark-haired lass. Despite his habit of flouting her, she never once held a grudge – even though his biting words did affront her. She would always present him that infamous pout that smirched her lips or, at times, a whine. Mostly, her sarcasm. But, a jovial grin did come gradually when she won in their quarrels. It irked him. Well, sometimes. And that purpose was because he could not fathom her. This woman was peculiar by nature. "Why are you treating me?"

Slight hesitation crept. "Is that wrong?"

"We are foes. Of course, it's wrong." Ryuji chided with resolution and solemnity. He _knew_ that more than anyone. And she should know of that matter as well. They were destined to slaughter each other. To become _enemies_. It left a great imprint on their lives. So why? Why did she _succor _him? Why was she so familiar with him despite his threats of executing her from the world she cherished? Why did she _care_ for _him_?

_Here we go again_. "Is that what you onmyoji think? All of you are quite stupid for humans." She rambled with her hands pressed to her hips and her golden orbs flashed with jade. He was always so defiant over everything. "You were hurt at that time when that oni crushed your leg. I was concerned at your crucial condition. There's no vice in that so I took care of you. Is that a valid reason, onmyoji-san?"

His dark irises broadened a bit. Though, it faltered as his gaze traveled to his left, averting it from a faint glimpse of her cordial smile.

_Strange__ female yokai._

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**Disclaimer:** I do not own Nurarihyon no Mago.


	4. 4

**A/N:** Short, but I warned you.

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**Week: 2 | Day: 12**

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Ryuji folded his arms with a timorous glare. He pursued to wrest his leg for a little bit, but it resulted with an unsatisfying growl of torment within his clenching jaws. It was still _painful_ and nowhere near to recovery. Damn it. Despite being engrossed in an ill welfare and a nipping tenor, what appeased him – though, he will never admit it – was her soothing hums. His ashen pools wandered through her lax frame as she grinned softly at the quaint posies she garnished in a frail vase.

The dark-haired onmyoji could never perceive why in the world he found her voice mollifying, but he listened to her dulcet humming anyway. It was mellow, and strangely, the closest thing to _human_. His eyes shut in serenity as her voice pursued to captivate his ears.

"When do you plan on giving me your name?" a small complaint hopped within her lips as she laid the comely blossoms next to him.

Not gracing her a glance, he replied calmly with least interest, "What about it?"

With an optimistic smile, she replied cheerfully, "There must be some point you're tired of being called 'onmyoji', ne?"

As usual. No reply. Can he at least not snub her for one day?

Her arms crossed in annoyance. Jerk. "Fine. Don't tell me." The tanuki yokai mumbled with a pout.

Still, no retort or anything. Just ignoring her mere presence. Yet again. "Though, a response would be nice." She murmured in a light tone. Damn, he was rude. She internally groaned in frustration. Her shoulders sagged. _I give up! _"Well, if you _did _rethink the idea of addressing me 'yokai', you can call me Himawari."

A sunflower, hm? A brightly beaming flower. An amused chortle escaped from his lips.

A fine brow rose. "What are you chuckling about?"

Strangely, the name _did _fit her. Snickering, he stated with a smirk, "None of your concern."

For a moment, though it did annoy her, the sound of his laugh would have been nicest thing she has heard of him so far. Well, it was better than his mocking tones and threats set on killing her, right? Still a bit muddled, she tried to smile but wavered at the attempt as she unconsciously raked her dark locks instead.

_What am I thinking?_

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**Disclaimer:** I do not own Nurarihyon no Mago.


	5. 5

**A/N: Thank you again.**

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**Week: 3 | Day: 22**

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"Turn around."

"How exactly?"

"Then, close your eyes."

The onmyoji grumbled in vexation, "What's this for?"

"I'm going to change," Himawari cooed, endeavoring to sound collected as possible. How could such an awful thing happen? "And it's your fault for spilling your food on my clothes." Her honey-colored eyes glared at him as her hands clutched her splotched kimono, ruined and no doubt uncomfortable to wear.

With a huff, he retorted in defense, "You gracelessly dumped it on your own."

_It__'s his fault._ It all begun when she served him his supper. Though haplessly, her foot slipped making her tumble to the ground and blotch her garb with soup and rice because _he _left his _bandages_ littered and _his _mat was an utter _mess_. How could she not trip from that— no, how could _he_ leave it like that? Did he not care if she flubbed herself before him? Ah. Of course, he would. He just _loved _seeing her bungle.

A moue dappled her ruddy mouth. "You're still partly responsible." Was her accusation, which was an aloof subject to him. "Just close your eyes already." She grumbled impatiently, her voice claiming a high, whining tone. The damp cloth that clung to her skin gave her a repulsed urge to simply doff the filthy thing and shove it to the floor. Ah, but she can't. Her small hut had only one room that was fit for one person.

Why did she have to live with a fully grown _man_?

He rolled his eyes in response. "It's not like I didn't see _everything_ the last time."

Ugh, she detested that memory. Damn him.

The tanuki yokai glowered. "But that didn't stop you from ogling," came her spiteful retort. "Pervert."

Ryuji huffed in distaste, tipping his strong chin haughtily. "Don't flatter yourself," his gray-slate averted from her golden gaze, letting them close with furrowed brows, as he folded his arms. "I am not interested in female yokai." The mere thought repelled him.

She prodded stubbornly, "No peeping, all right?"

"Hn."

Squinting her eyes sharply, she checked him again if there was any sign of peeking, but fortunately, he complied quietly. Her feet inaudibly tiptoed to her old closet as her hasty hands rummaged for some crisp clothing. Shame, she really did relish this kimono. Finally disrobing her garb in discomfit, she plopped it to the wooden floor.

Though, everything would have gone smoothly if only she did not feel something _crawling _in her hair.

For a moment, Himawari paused and placated herself. Maybe, it was just a silly spider.

Her hand wandered at her scalp then grappled onto something jittery and long with tiny, unsettling legs. Once she opened her palm, an elongated centipede appeared before her frazzled, amber orbs. Why was this damn insect in her hair in the first place? Swallowing a whimper, she smacked the little abomination to the ground. Spiders were not much of a big deal. On the other hand, centipedes were repulsive and lethal, mind you.

Her sandaled feet kept stomping _it_ with fervent determination to eradicate its existence.

Meanwhile, his ears perked from the din she made. No shrill was heard, but the constant tromping and muffled puling caught him in alarm. Assuming she had already clothed herself, his eyes cracked open. How wrong his intuition was.

"What hap—!"

He gawked at her— _all _of her.

Abashed, she flung her old kimono to cover those blasted irises of his. Her cheeks were ablaze. This was _embarrassing_.

"I told you to close your eyes!"

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**Disclaimer:** I do not own Nurarihyon no Mago.


	6. 6

**A/N: **Umm, I went on vacation for a bit? Sorry, about that. Going on, thank you for reviewing and everything that you can do to support this fanfic. Not long (which should be expected), but I hope you could at least savor it. It has a bit of fluff, but I really am sorry if I romanticized it. I'll update sooner.

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**Week: 4 | Day: 28**

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"Hobbling whenever you want isn't going to do any good to your leg."

"I didn't ask for your opinion, yokai."

"I didn't ask for yours either."

"I'm going to walk until it heals."

"Seriously, will you just stop that?"

"No."

A snarl coursed through her miffed lips. "Sit down, damn it."

His slate-gray orbs were bursting with unrestrained perseverance at the rocking movements of his feet. "I don't take orders from the likes of you, yokai." He spatted in a frosty tone while his trained glare was too deeply engulfed with his own disgraceful tottering.

At that point, Himawari resisted the urge to roll her eyes. He was such a fool. Always the stuck-up, snubbing idiot with a giant stick up his sorry ass. "And, I don't care," she retorted, but much to her annoyance, he was not even paying attention. "You just—!"

Karma may be a bitch in many ways, but it was her best, hilarious companion for today. To some hapless twist for him, his unsteady feet slipped from his sprawled mat, which he usually disregards, causing him to quake like a shuddering leaf and topple on his bum. And, _that _was funny.

Ryuji Keikain, onmyoji extraordinaire and the king of all pricks, just _fell _on his _ass_.

Hah.

Dear karma, thank you. Bless you, even!

Much to his chagrin and frustration, he could hear the tanuki yokai snort a laugh. No, rather, she was stifling her giggling. He was pissed. He hated being in such plight, especially if he had no choice but to show his vulnerability. He loathed his weakness more than anything in the world, second to the infernal beasts he called_ yokai_. Hitherto, this woman...this female _yokai _somewhat always manages to see all of his impuissance, and that alone, was simply unacceptable. _Especially_, when his pride was at stake.

His livid glare shot at her, throwing her with icy spades. She, on the other hand, was unaffected and unruffled. Ah, but she was sympathetic to his situation, thus faltering her attempts on laughing before his face. She cleared her throat and poised her composure. "Stupid idiot." Though her voice was solemn, there was a small twinge of satisfaction.

He growled in annoyance, "Shut up."

An amused simper curved her mouth. "So, karma's a bitch, huh?" her golden irises flicked to his.

"Hn."

The dark-haired woman chuckled at his response. She crouched, then reached her hand towards him with a beam. "Since you can walk even a little bit, do you mind if we go outside?"

He glared at her hand, leaving no words in his mouth.

"I won't laugh at you. I promise."

Another cold dose of silence.

"Are you just going to embarrass yourself at the floor or are you just going to take my hand?"

His ashen orbs stared at her hand for a minute then went back to her amicable face. A sigh draped his lips. Reluctant at first, his hand hesitantly reached for hers though due to her impatience, her fingers instantly grasped his calloused one. Oh. Callous, yes. Though, she never knew that his hand would be large against hers, molding so sweetly into one, and unmistakably warm. Warmth she never expected to feel. A pleasant feeling bubbled in her chest.

Mustering her strength, she hauled him with such gentleness that he appeared to have slowly neglected his shameful plight albeit remaining to act mulish and arrogant. She still grappled for his hand until they reached for the door because she was quite stubborn to release it herself. Steps. Heavy steps. Clumsy steps. Ryuji was trying his best. She smiled at him till the very end. Everything would soon bear fruit.

The moment he heaved one, last step, his cinereal eyes squinted from the glaring light at first though as he settled a little after, his eyes popped open at the sight. The sky was clear and marvelously azure. Ah. It was probably the same sky he always saw back then, but it appeased him. She guided him at the outside porch and aided him to sit down.

His gaze traveled at the opulent sky, the mystical forest, the bog that clung to his shoes, and _everything_. He closed his eyes, immersing within the warmth that settled in the earth and the gust that wafted his ebony locks. The scent of wild grass and the crisp perfume of posies heavily clung in the air. Ah. Then he realized, how long it had been when he last felt this way. God, it had been too long.

"It has been awhile for you, no?"

The onmyoji finally opened his eyes only to meet a cluster of beaming flowers, golden and radiant before the sun.

A query unconsciously left his mouth. "Sunflowers?"

Himawari stiffened for a moment, but soon landed her gaze at the budding flowerbed of sunflowers. "My mother used to grow sunflowers and I was fond of them so I grew some for myself." To her side was a bag of sunflower seeds that she left a while ago. Her hand latched it and propped it at her lap. "Would you want some?"

He did not give her a reply while she sighed in turn.

"All right. If you change your mind, feel free to take one." She placed the bag between them.

A small sigh puffed off his mouth.

His limber fingers hesitantly tugged the bag while she was not looking.

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**Disclaimer:** I do not own Nurarihyon no Mago.


	7. 7

**A/N: **Thank you as always even though I might sound like a broken record, and sorry again for the tardiness. I was busy finishing a chapter in another story. So, the drabble series will pretty much conclude after two or three more chapters + epilogue sooo yah, just savor it. I'll try updating much sooner than the usual.

Be warned, symbolisms, foreshadowing, and _drama_...you know, like those sappy soap operas (bleh).

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**Week: 4 | Day: 32**

* * *

On rainy days like these, Himawari hated it the most.

A glowering cloudburst damned the once beaming sky with gray-smudged hazes and a brooding drizzle which cadenced her old, ebony brolly in grating pitter-patters. The ground mired her sandaled feet with quag, blended with rainwater and bog as she marched forth in heavy, squelch-sounding strides. Albeit shielding herself with a parasol, her citrine kimono was damp and patched with blots of mud. A mighty gust hurled her tousled, ebony locks. Shuddering from the gale, she silently cursed the weather with her miffed glower.

Then, a frown mottled her ruddy lips.

Must it rain today?

Her golden orbs finally caught the sight of her small hut just ahead. With a sigh, she pursued to trudge forward. It would be over soon, and she could tidy herself a little bit after. He might taunt her with her sloppy appearance.

A small smile meekly greeted her mouth.

Maybe, he would appreciate what she brought him, even though she knew much that he would never show it. She cradled the bag in her chest.

Her hand latched the door and went inside.

"Onmyoji-san, I brought—" the grin in her lips fell once the man she took care of was nowhere in sight. "He didn't just…"

Her amber irises broadened in horror.

_No..._

Hastily tossing her brolly and bag in some stray corner, the tanuki yokai began to scour outside the hut out of dread and concern. Much to her disappointment, he was not there.

_No, please don__'t!_

Frustrated and anxious, she began to sprint in the midst of a storm, her impulsive feelings taking the best of her. She spat through her clattering teeth, "That idiot!"

She was in a stir. Her head whipped in different directions. Her amber irises were wild and frazzled upon spotting the identical, needled trees and the mantle of vegetation that were swashed with the rain. Her feet began to burn and raw from running around in the boggy ground despite the nippy sleet and the bitter, frore weather. She shivered in the cold, rainwater and sweat clung in her weary hull. If not for her ayakashi blood boiling within her, she would have suffered critical conditions, such as hyperthermia.

All the more reason she feared his wellbeing.

"Onmyoji-san!"

No response came.

Unfortunately, that was not the last time she had called him.

Hope seemed so distant.

She shut her dewy eyes as if she was silently praying to any deity above who would listen to her humble pleas.

_Please..._

Her quivering hands clasped her sodden kimono.

_Please..._

Her mud-spotted, blistered feet began to tread again.

_Please, be all right._

Himawari sniffled.

Like a granted prayer, her golden orbs broadened once it spotted a fresh trail of footsteps in the wet, spongy ground. Tittles of relief bubbled in her chest. With much haste, her heel spun to its direction as she began to pace. He had to be lurking here somewhere.

He had to be alive.

_He has to be._

* * *

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Nurarihyon no Mago.


	8. 8

**A/N: **Two chapters done, why you lucky bastard! All right so I had to split the last chapter into three parts. It was just so long, and it wouldn't really be called a drabble if it was too long. Still, I'm a bit frightened about Ryuji's character in this one. If the last one's centered on Himawari's point of view, this one's centered in his point of view this time. And you don't see him getting all guilty and losing his cool everyday, right? Please, tell me I got it right or wrong. I would appreciate it.

Be warned, symbolisms, foreshadowing, and _drama_...you know, like those sappy soap operas (bleh).

* * *

**Week: 4 | Day: 32**

* * *

"—_ji-san!_"

This once, he would admit to himself...

What a _stupid_ way to die.

To be honest, Himawari might laugh mockingly at him again if she saw him like _this_. So vulnerable and down right pathetic, like their first meeting. Ryuji snickered darkly to himself. Ah, but she would not find him in this godforsaken place. She would not see the ungrateful jerk, who could not even appreciate her efforts, die underneath three feet of muck and filth in the ground.

"—_myoji-san!_"

The lids of his eyes were growing heavier as if it meant to shut the light from his sight for good. Every muscle in his body was growing numb from the cold, but he could still feel that pain on his broken leg. It stung more than it should. He cursed silently. Then, he finally remembered. His pride was the most excruciating pain he had felt in a while. His jaw tensed, hardened from self-loathing and rejection.

Reminiscing, the onmyoji recalled that the day held no ill will— that it was warm, dandy, and balmy. His leg was near recovery and it could walk with the aid of a walking stick by his side. Maybe, he could return and everything might just go back to normal. How foolish. Haplessly, the moment he left the hut it began to drizzle. But, it was beyond him to witness the wrath of a tempest.

Eventually, he was lost in the eye of the timbre. In the mountain. Then, he remembered losing that walking stick, his trudging caused him to slip in some repulsive pit of bog, and hitting his head in the process guaranteed he would not last till the night. His plight was frustrating, occasionally smiting another blow to his dignity. He loathed it.

Ryuji was belligerent and resilient. A man hellbent on surviving in the most perilous situations, whether yokai, human, or any force of nature. In a sense, he believed he was headstrong— much better and smarter than dying in here. He wanted to rise from the ground, but all his body could muster was the smallest acts of twitching and shifting. It was as if there was this weight on his hull that he could not even heave with all his strength. How pathetic.

Maybe, the curse was real about all the male heirs in the Keikain family dying early.

"_On__myoji-san!_"

Strange. For a moment, he had thought that someone was calling for him. That voice. Was it Himawari?

Ah.

Himawari.

If there was one thing that he would truly admit to anyone, it would be the fact that he was _selfish_. The sight of that peculiar, tanuki yokai never stumbled in his mind even once when he begun his quest to depart. He had never pondered what would have been her thoughts on his actions. He did not even bother thinking what her feelings would have been when he left.

He was just her patient after all. A lounging human with a dead leg. Just some dead weight, probably.

Maybe, he took advantage of that.

Better to play the part as the patient than die the next day. No matter how his Keikain pride wished he had rather festered alone than live a single day in the care of the being he hated the most.

The sooty-haired man finally closed his weary eyes, darkness washing over his vision.

She would not care.

She _should _not care at all.

Not for him.

_"You were hurt at that time when that oni crushed your leg. I was _concerned _at your crucial condition. There's no vice in that so I took care of you. Is that a valid reason—__"_

"Onmyoji-san!"

His twin pools of slate-gray flew open.

She was there right in front of him. Her face was trickled with rain and what appeared to be tears. Warm tears. All his mind could say was that she looked so haggard— mud on her clothes, twigs on her hair, dirt on her skin, and rainwater showered all over her. But, who was he to judge what she appeared like right now? He most certainly looked more atrocious than she was.

There was one thing that fretted him, though.

Why was she _here_ of all places?

His eyes squinted for a bit.

Did she...really look for _him_?

Warm. The flesh in her hand was so warm...or maybe, his skin was just too icy cold to touch. Her palm was pressed against his cheek, her fingers thawing his frigid visage, while her thumb skimmed to his neck as if she was finding his faint pulse.

His vision was still a bit foggy, but he knew it was her. Those golden orbs were too burned in his mind that he could hardly forget about them. There was no joy or affability within them, though. Just relief and somber. A look that did not even fit her usually elated and genial self one bit. She was glaring at him, scrutinizing him thoughtfully, much to his discomfit.

Then, her lips, usually smiling and appeasing, were pale and drawn into a thin frown. They opened and were moving as if spouting words into colloquy that he should comprehend. But, no matter how much he endeavored to understand, he could not even hear or perceive her at the moment. His mind was buzzing and exhausted from the strain and the cold.

Though, there were three words he did notice when she mouthed them.

_I found you._

* * *

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Nurarihyon no Mago.


	9. 9

**A/N: **Finally, the last part! Thank you again for your marvelous reviews and support! Okay, before you read this, just pardon me for not giving you a satisfying ending in the end. Next, remember the part where I'm going to end the story with three more chapters? Well, this isn't last one, all right. There would be two more right after this and then finally an epilogue. So, without a further ado, just go read this.

Be warned, symbolisms, foreshadowing, and _drama_...you know, like those sappy soap operas (bleh).

**Guest:** Thanks for the review, and as for your question, I do intend to update Wallflower but I am still not sure when to update it (currently, I'm not even finished with the next chapter). You're not inconsiderate at all. Actually, I read your review on Wallflower and it made glad to know someone was still reading it.

* * *

**Week: 4 | Day: 32**

* * *

Himawari was silent.

It almost felt unnerving to be in her mere presence.

Ryuji was safe and recovering in her care once again and she was _relieved_.

But the moment they returned to her hut, it would not mean that everything went back to normal. She acquited in an unorthodox behavior at that moment. Her damp face was solemn and almost _cold_. Her movements were stiff and quivering, but she willed herself to mend his sallow condition. Her amber orbs never met his. Even if it did, it was the closest thing to a biting glare. No words left her mouth. No genuine tenderness. No smile.

He knew her well enough that she was utterly _infuriated_.

"You're really…stupid…" she hollowly muttered under her breath. "Idiot…stupid damn idiot…"

For once she did not act composed, sarcastic, or mirthful. She was sullen and bilious. Her back was hunched against the wall while her breath was ragged, making her appear more like one of the rabid beasts that sought to rip his throat than a civilized human that she pretended to be. She kept muttering under her breath, a string of curses bellowing spitefully in his ears.

The tanuki yokai did not care at all if he did hear her words. The only thing that spiraled in her thoughts was that he deserved it. After all, ire conquered her mind.

Gritting his teeth, he finally spoke from his mat, "_Oi_! Will you just stop that? I did not ask you to find me in that damn storm in the first place!"

"Now, you **shut up**!" she rasped harshly as she stomped her way before him. Her golden irises were blazing with spleen while her knuckles were blanched from her taut grip. "Do you think bolting out on a storm with a dead leg is going get you home? That could have gotten you killed! It doesn't mean you can be able to make a few steps that you could do whatever you want!"

The onmyoji glared nippily at her. "If I should recall, I am none of your concern," he spat, each word like daggers behind her back. "And so am I with you, yokai."

The anger never faded away in her gaze yet her eyes appeared to have softened a bit. Ungrateful human. Stupid onmyoji. Indifferent bastard. She steeled her feelings, numbing the pain in the wounds he left in her chest. She would not dare shed a tear. Not for something as petty as this. Not for him.

"You might hate me more than anything in the world, but I still care for you."

"Then, that's pointless."

Silence.

"Maybe, you're right."

With that, she left.

He never regretted anything in his life.

Though, some small part of him felt he just did.

At that hapless moment, she was like a lone sunflower that was slowly withering in the eye of a tempest. Its radiance stripped away by the repetitive, cold blasts of the wind, bent on the ground for its sun was taken away from it, and was quaking from the frigidness.

Sunflowers beam in summery days. They never wail like marigolds and hydrangeas.

Though, it could only weep when it pours.

After all,

On rainy days like these, Himawari hated it the _most_.

* * *

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Nurarihyon no Mago.


	10. 10

**A/N: **Thank you again for those reviews and whatever support you can provide! And just in case you're confused, do not mistake this as the last chapter. I'm sorry for being confusing. What I meant by the 'last part' on the last chapter meant that it was the _last part_ from the chapter that I split in three parts. The real final chapter would be coming up next— or much sooner.

* * *

**Week: 5 | Day: 37**

* * *

Ryuji clicked his tongue in vexation.

From all that graceless limping and moving around, he haplessly - accidentally - ruined the damn bandages on his leg, making them messy and loose from its usual, secure grip. Miffed, he sighed. How bothersome.

"Oi, yok—"

Ah.

Of course.

How could he forget? They had not spoken to each other for a week right after that night she took him back. Nonetheless, she still tended his wounds, fed him, and graced him a shelter to sojourn. But conversation almost appeared nonexistent whenever they confronted each other. Eye-contact was terse. Her presence before him was limited for she spent most of her time among the wilderness or with her dear sunflowers.

To his belief, she was still upset to see or meet him.

The dark-haired man sighed deeply.

Well, he had to deal his own problem. Without her help.

As he hobbled to the drawer where she stores the crisp batch of bandages, careful not to trip or step on his own wrappings, he fished the desired item and receded back to his mat, sitting on it. True, Ryuji Keikain was a professional in the exorcising business though it never guaranteed that he would be as excellent at any field outside of it— particularly, binding bandages to his leg.

A glout tugged his lips. It looked as messy and unsatisfactory as the previous one he wanted to change. Displeased, he attempted unwrapping it off him though he would have already accomplished the deed if not for the complicated knot that adamantly refused to unravel. He pursued twining and twisting it but to no avail it did not budge at all. He clicked his tongue. Damn it.

He planned to rip it off instead and get it over with when a pair of gentle hands ceased him. His slate-gray orbs widened in muddle. "If you plan to change your bandages, you should have at least done it neatly." He was too engrossed and nonplussed by her sudden presence and _tenderness _that he did not realize that she had already untangled the knot. "Let me do it."

As she wrapped his leg with fresh wrappings, he still gawked at her as if she was a phantom, which she noticed. "What are you looking at?" she asked curiously, her golden orbs peering at his staring eyes curiously, concernedly. "Is there something on my face?"

Clearing his throat, he averted his gaze from hers and mumbled awkwardly, "There's a smudge of dirt on your cheek. Clean it up."

"What!" she consciously began wiping whatever blotch of mud was on her face. "Damn…"

Himawari...acted like her eccentric self again.

She was there right in front of him. Probably muttering something under her breath. He knew her that much that she would likely have cursed, knowing that she had always possessed the tongue of a sailor. Typical Himawari. This was_ her_. This was the eccentric woman that always did a diligent job puzzling him at his wit's end. The eccentric woman that peeved him in their banters. The eccentric woman that smiled whenever she greeted him.

He breathed in and released a puff of air from his mouth.

Ryuji was still dumbfounded.

As if his lips had a mind of its own, it voiced out his thoughts:

"Aren't you upset?"

Damn mouth.

Her long, dark lashes batted owlishly. "Oh, you're concerned about that," an assuring grin touched her lips. "I already forgave you. Well, I couldn't really blame you for running off like that. You were stuck with a yokai for five weeks and that must have been uncomfortable for your part."

Her twin pools of amber softened at the memory. "I was mad because you did something with so much haste that you didn't think that the latter might have gotten you killed." A sigh rolled off her mouth. Although her mirthful and affable tone made her reason believable enough, her mind had thought differently. Something more personal. _No, actually…it's because you didn't even realize how I was concerned about you. _

Beaming, she shrugged airily. "Well, that's all in the past now, right onmyoji-san?"

As his gaze locked upon her blithe visage wearing her disarming simper, those haunting words that she had confessed to him that night echoed through the recesses of his mind.

"_You might hate me more than anything in the world, but I still care for you."_

He sighed— not a peeved one, but an allayed sigh.

This time, he did not glance at her as if blank space was far more intriguing than watching her aid him. His lips were silent for a moment. His mind wandered aimlessly in his musings and recollections. He was hesitant at first, but he would not mind disclosing _it _to her this time.

"Keikain."

Confused, she said, "What?"

Another sigh was released from his mouth. "My name is Ryuji Keikain." He stated calmly.

She blinked. Did he just...? Really, now. He had to admit his name to her now of all days. Strange, silly man. "All right, Ryuji-san." A warm smile curled the corners of her mouth.

For once he would admit to himself that he preferred her smiling more often.

* * *

**A/N: Notice the part where he did not call her a yokai but a **_**woman **_**in his thoughts? *nudge* *nudge***

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Nurarihyon no Mago.


	11. 11

**A/N: **Finally, the last chapter! Thank you once again to those who reviewed and supported this silly story of mine to the very end! Really, thank you! It's a bit longer than I anticipated, but it is the last one so let's just consider it as an exception. Now, I am giving you my permission to read this chapter! Hope you enjoy it!

* * *

**Week: 7 | Day: 49**

* * *

"It's good to know you're actually walking," said the impressed voice of Himawari, who warily glanced at the tenacious onmyoji with a mirthful beam twisting her ruddy lips and a steaming cup of tea on her hands. "Before you might have been bested by an old man. Talk about graceless."

For a moment, he had thought that she ebbed sliding a gibe onto those supposedly praising and emboldening words of hers.

Ceasing his endeavors in treading, he whipped an icy glower at her.

As if she could nullify the cold daggers from his slate-gray eyes, she simply chuckled at his expected response. "Well, it is true," she said as her mouth captured the rim of her cup, allowing the warm brew pour down on her throat. "Does your leg still hurt by any chance?"

His gaze landed at his leg and probed it with a light shake. "It's fine." Frankly, he did feel a slight pricking sensation whenever he flounced too much, but he could easily numb it and pay no heed for a minuscule problem just as long as his leg was in a stable condition and he could stride properly without any unnecessary gawkiness.

Sipping from her teacup once again, she cast her gaze away from his ashen orbs as if her thoughts were buried deep in her reverie and not from his face.

"You're really leaving tomorrow?"

Pause.

A sigh left his lips.

"Yes."

It had already been half a month.

They would be searching for him now at this point. Yura would most likely lose all her calm at the thought of his mysterious disappearance. And if they have somehow managed to find him here, there would be confusion...

He glanced at her wistful face for a quick second.

_She'll get in trouble._

A long, pensive sigh unfurled from her mouth. "Ah," was her placid, convincing utterance. "Do you drink sake by any chance?"

That came out of nowhere.

Cocking a slender brow, he questioned, "_You_ drink?"

"Of course, I drink," the tanuki yokai replied snappily, mocking sarcasm pooling in her tone. "My question?"

"I do," he said in his usual, clipped manner. "What's this about?"

A smile touched her lips. "Why not? You'll be leaving tomorrow anyway and there's no problem drinking sake this evening," her reason merely earned her a skeptical glare, which made her sigh and roll her eyes. "Don't misunderstand me. I don't plan on getting you drunk or anything convoluted like that. I'm just inviting if you don't mind."

Finally, she stood from her current position and weaseled herself a large bottle of sake from an old cabinet. "Well, if you don't want to drink at all, you could stay in here. I'll be at the porch." Nonetheless, she still took two saucers with her as if she had already assumed that he would acquiesce her invitation. As she padded outside her hut, he simply stared at her flee from him with an odd look.

At that moment, he was unsure what to be confused about. If she suddenly disclosed the knowledge that she could drink alcohol or if he should accept her offer. Shrugging, he tailed after her anyway in his lax strut and a deadpan expression on his visage. Well, it did not truly matter if he did accept her invitation. It was better than lounging around on his mat and doing absolutely nothing.

Noticing her sitting placidly basking underneath the moonlight, the dark-haired man simply sat next to her. Craning her neck to his direction, she greeted him with a welcoming simper and twinkle of content in her golden pools. She poured a saucer with sake and handed it to him, which he took with a shrug. Ryuji glanced at it with a twirl to his saucer and calmly sipped it.

For a moment, a pregnant silence crept between the pair. A frosty breeze glided, making the leaves prance and quiver.

She swigged the alcohol from her saucer and languidly peered at him at the corner of her eyes. She felt a bit tipsy, but she was not completely lush yet. Sighing softly, she latched the rolled - tightly coiled - dark, leathery coat, which he used to daub on his shoulders when she first saw him and probably the place where he kept his shikigami, from under her wooden floorboards of her porch.

Himawari felt reluctant. He could simply execute her life once he gets his hands on this, but she steeled her nerves instead and brandished the item before his broad, cinereal orbs while stating in a settled tone, "You'll need this when you leave, ne?"

Spotting the familiar bamboo wood bulging from his old mantle, he reached for it with a fixated gape. "My shikigami."

Her slender hand slapped his fingers away. "I believe not," she distanced herself, hiding his desired shikigami behind her back. "You can't have it."

Aggravated, he demanded in an acerbic voice, "Give it back, yokai."

Her head shook in decline as she poured her saucer with alcohol and downed it greedily. "I'm sorry but my name is not 'yokai'," she chastised, a pinch of playfulness in her tone. "Is Himawari too hard to pronounce?"

He retorted, "You're drunk."

She fenced back, "You're stubborn."

"Yokai,"

"_Himawari_."

"Wench."

"Damn you."

Reluctant, he consented anyway, "Just give it back, Himawari."

Her mouth broke into an elated grin. "Finally," she uttered, handing his shikigami back at him. She chuckled mildly to herself. "Though was the bickering necessary?" he did not bestow her any reply, but she brushed it off as she poured her saucer again with sake.

The onmyoji ripped the string from his coat and unravel the items inside as if he was making sure that everything was still there and was not an illusion. Fortunately, his shikigami was left untouched. Holding it closer to him, he finally felt appeased at the thought that his shikigami was near his reach and began to finish the half-full contents of his liquor.

Releasing the rim from her lips, she deeply sighed. "Then again, when you leave here there won't be any bickering anymore. Sounds lonesome, don't you think?" she did not wait for his response as she swigged the freshly poured alcohol on her saucer, burning her senses numb and relishing the disgustingly addicting taste of the sake washing over her tongue. "Maybe I am a bit drunk. I'm actually admitting that I'll miss your company."

For a second, he stiffened. "You're just drunk." Just as equally fervent as she was, he then quaffed the liquor from his saucer to the very last drop.

Chortling, she remarked, "You don't have to make it sound like it's a bad thing."

His slate-gray orbs did not lock with her lush amber gaze. Maybe, it was the alcohol playing tricks with his head, but some silent part him thought that the notion she had confessed intoxicatedly was not really such a bad thing, either.

Eventually, the boozing had to conclude soon.

The rosy morning finally dawned.

Himawari reluctantly cracked open her eyes with a wince from the buzzing of her head. It was probably the product of needlessly consuming sake last night. She knew perfectly when to curb her urges in drinking and deal with her limitations well enough though it would appear that she had disregarded her scruples and ingested more liquor than she should. With a sigh and a hand to her forehead, she composed herself from the comfort of her mat. Mat?

_All this time, I was sleeping on my mat?_

She expected that she would have slept to the floor yet she was tucked cozily in her mat. No. This was not her mat. It was _his_. Her nose caught the heavy whiff of his scent on the sheets, and to her surprise and addle, she continued to plunge her nostrils further to the cushion he once rested on. It was dizzying, intoxicating, somewhat earthy, and every bit like him. As if he was still there, embracing her with a cloud of his scent.

Well, she was not exactly a pervert for committing this action. It was not her fault that she possessed an enhanced sense of smell that could still latch the traces of his scent cling to his sheets and that she somewhat already missed the lack of his presence in her lonely hut. Without thinking twice, she sunk deeper to the sheets, warming herself from the cold, morn air and resting her mind from her hangover. A small, sentimental smile touched her lips.

Ryuji Keikain left.

She felt relief engulf her at the thought with a biting pinch of ache.

The ebony-haired maiden nuzzled her cheek at the cushion and shut her eyes back to her pleasant repose in high hopes that she would dip down back to the realm of her sweet dreams. That was the reason why she had drunk too much. It was because she was not prepared for any goodbyes and that she would not have to arise early to witness him drifting away from her for good. She was not the type of person to sob mawkishly once a dear person finally flees from her life or to bid a proper farewell at the end of their journey together.

And she knew him well enough that he was not very good with saying goodbyes, either.

It was just too dramatic and sappy which left a bitter taste at the back of their tongues.

Fortunately, the both of them had that same belief.

She did not have to scour him again to see a glimpse of him for one last time.

It would be fine to end it this way. He must have thought of that too.

_Though, who knew an onmyoji who swore he'll kill me had the heart enough to tuck me soundly in his mat in my sleep..._

A light chuckle rumbled in her throat.

The deed was indeed heartwarming enough to extinguish whatever regrets her heart had.

_Thank you, Ryuji-san._

* * *

**A/N: **Yes, it is bittersweet. I know the last chapter was somewhat anti-climatic, but well I wanted this scene where they part ways to have a more realistic and believable turn, considering how both characters (I believe) are not fond of saying goodbyes. So yeah, sorry for ruining your expectations for any grand and dramatic endings, but I'll make up for it in the epilogue which I look forward to write.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Nurarihyon no Mago.


	12. Epilogue

**A/N: **Thank you for all the support, reviews, favorites, and alerts. Mostly, your patience. I'm always busy so I was so anxious at times if I could finish at least one story. And today, I'm just really bursting with joy, yet at the same time, there's this sad part of me because I would finally conclude this one. You see, I try my best in my other stories so much and give it much effort as much as any writer out there, but its just really unpopular and discarded so it gets me all depressed. But with this one, it's good to know there are some who actually show that they are actually reading and excited for more.

Well, if your kind enough to do me a favor, will you criticize my story after reading it? You know, the chapters, grammar, characters, and the writing itself. There's nothing wrong getting a bit harsh on me. I prefer a severe and honest review than a sugar-coated one. I hope it's not too much to ask. This will just be a small treat for myself if I can improve more and maybe it will act as some bit of motivation for me for future stories.

Longer than the other chapters, but this is the epilogue soooo I hope you enjoy it for the last time!

Lastly, I hope I did justice on Ryuji's character!

**Edited:** Thank you KiraKiraBluemoon for pointing out those grammar mistakes and for your wonderful review. I appreciate it so much!

* * *

**Week: 0 | Day: 0**

* * *

"Yura-san!"

A pair of vapid, fawn orbs caught the sight of an emerging figure from the distance. Ah. From the affable tone of her voice, she recognized that person was an acquaintance of hers― that was what she believed, at least.

A small smile curved her lips. "Himawari-san."

Upon closer inspection, one may consider her like one of those mellow women made of dark honey, smooth, sweet, and terribly sticky. Delicate and prim like a newlywed bride or very much like a doting mother. Her eyes were a rich brown, flecked with gold, while her ebony locks were tied up from her amiable face. Truly, she had every convincing and prosaic trait like any Japanese woman.

It could have if not for the slightest traces of dark energy unfurling from her like smoke.

It was clear to Yura that this meek-looking companion of hers was a yokai.

"That seems quite a lot you have there," her russet orbs regarded the bags of groceries in her hands. "Let me help you."

She shook her head. "It's fine. You don't hav―"

Himawari being a defiant woman in nature grappled most of the bags with ease and simpered in assurance. "Well, I wouldn't allow you carrying these by yourself."

"But―"

"Let's get going, Yura-san. It's not safe here at night."

Before the Keikain juvenile could utter a single word of protest, she began to tread away, humming blithely. She wanted to cease her from moving forward but wavered at the thought and complied instead, striding next to her calmly. It had been like this when they first met at the mall. They would meet coincidentally, she offered her help, and as much as she resisted asking aid from a yokai she acquiesced the kind deed nonetheless― mostly, because she utterly needed it.

It was a simple, cordial relationship. Both of them were fully aware of their true identities and accepted it peacefully. Much like her relationship with Rikuo. Though between the two, Yura was more perturbed albeit encountering a few good-natured ayakashi from the past because _she _could grace her a congenial smile and a sincere offer of succor between friends - even sharing her knowledge in cooking dishes - despite knowing that she was an _onmyoji_― from the illustrious Keikain Clan, no less.

She cleared her throat uneasily. "Ano, Himawari-san,"

The tanuki yokai said, "Yes?"

"I'm fine here. You should go."

"Oh, but you live a few more blocks away."

"Really, it's fine. It would be better if you are not near the Keikain manor."

"If you mean I might encounter an onmyoji," she stated as if she read her mind, her voice unusually placid and her smile intact. "I really do not mind it at all. Don't concern yourself with me. Frankly, I've been awfully curious to what your manor looks like."

With her tawny gaze prodded at hers, the dark-haired girl convinced wearily, "It's not safe for you, Himawari-san."

Judging from that concerned look in her eyes, she truly did not wish to lead her to her doom― to be more accurate, her death. Then again, it was actually the most foolish thing for her to head towards a place where professional _exorcists_ dwell. Yura was an exception, but the others probably had none of her tolerable and empathizing nature. They would kill her without thinking twice. She nearly snickered at the thought.

_Haven't you learned that painful fact from the past already, Himawari?_

A faint image of a sooty-haired man surfaced in her mind, his dark mantle flourishing behind him.

She sighed softly― maybe, a bit too sentimentally.

_I'm sure he'll probably kill me._

"Fine. I won't," Himawari finally complied, which made the younger girl sigh in relief. "But I'll walk with you a bit more then I'll leave, all right?"

Reluctant at first, she bobbed her head in agreement and they finally strode away.

Though the moonlit night was an appeasing sight to behold, the air grew nippier while the alleys appeared duskier.

Yura halted. "This should be―"

A step.

A flap of a leather cape.

A cold voice.

"Yura," at that moment, she stiffened at the sound of her name and the voice she recognized better than anyone. "Why are you with a _yokai_?"

She spun to meet his patronizing glare and was about to reason herself to him when the tanuki yokai stood before her with her arm stretched before her as if she motioned her to cease her actions.

"Hello," A genial beam curled her lips, deceiving but done out of politeness and unmistakable mirth. "I was just helping her carry these but it was not my intention to cause trouble if that's what you're glaring about. Or is it perhaps a normal thing for someone like you to do?"

With broad, dumbstruck eyes, the dark-haired girl gaped at her as if she had done the worst crime ever committed. No one insults her older brother. _No one_. They would die before they ever did. Yet she brazenly did it without quivering in fear or without having any doubts to the act she made. Considering that she was a yokai, she was bound to meet her end at this rate.

Yura silently reached for her frog purse.

Mamiru stepped forward, raising his hand.

In a nick of time, Ryuji ceased his partner from making any sort of assault to the female ayakashi.

He glared at her as if he was boring holes on her face.

"What are _you _doing here?"

An amused simper twisted the corners of her mouth. Her rich brown orbs turned into a brilliant gold.

She chuckled. "So you still remembered me after all, Ryuji-san."

It was quite unexpected meeting him here in the most terrible timing. Though as awkward and tense the situation was, Himawari could not help but gaze at him― at how he had been a product of excelling time. His visage became older, calmer, and probably shrewder. His gray-slate eyes were sharper and more daunting to his foes, but it still held that arrogance and aloofness she knew so well. Confessedly, he really did ripen better with age.

Some silent part of her inwardly puled. She must have looked like a juvenile to him now, considering how her personality had made her obviously eccentric and a tad bit childish and shrewish albeit she was likely more older than him.

Then she regarded the presence of the other man next to him. His face was dearth of emotions, but the most noticeable trait of his was his towering height. Even Ryuji appeared like an imp with this mountain of a man right next to him.

Frankly, she wanted to rib him about that little fact but resisted the whim to do so.

The sooty-haired girl was first to clamor at her disclosure since the other tall fellow cared little to show his flabbergast. "Y-you know each other, Himawari-san?"

"Quite," she answered, a little too blithely. "You could say we were acquaintances a few years back."

"How?"

"So he never told you," her amber gaze accusingly flicked at his direction. "Ah, well he stayed with me for a night."

Little did Himawari know that her reply simply roused unnecessary misinterpretations.

With flushed cheeks, Yura looked at him rebukingly. "O-onii-chan!"

Even Mamiru, who always wore a deadpan visage, glanced at him accusingly.

Frowning in chagrin and displeasure, he fenced back, "It isn't like that."

Finally understanding the perturbation roving between the three onmyoji with her, she interrupted, "Oh! Excuse me for my words," she began to think of the right words in her mind to avoid further misunderstanding. "But what I meant was that...he stayed in my house, that's all."

There was silence.

And confusion.

―

Ryuji Keikain never believed that the past would soon haunt him for he never really set his mind about it or if there truly was something even worthy to acknowledge about it. Though, today's hapless encounter had proven him wrong. It was beyond his expectations to meet _her_ once again of all things.

A few years had flitted by and he encounters her in a chic sweater and a long, flowery skirt rather than the sunglow yukata she once wore. Peculiarly, he would admit that it made her appear more _human_ and maybe to others appeal as a plain woman. Though, she was an exception― an eccentric pacifist at best. But that was not what arrested his attention, it was the fact that she did not change at all. Her youth lasting, her personality still eccentric and saucy, and her golden, feral eyes blazing like in the past.

It was as if she was his distant memory brought back to the world.

He dealt the confusion earlier, knowing that a certain yokai was not very good at executing a decent lie or voicing her thoughts tamely.

Though, he did not think that everything would be settled soon.

Now, they stood together underneath a streetlight.

Thankfully, alone.

"So we meet again, hm?" she said with a simper. "How's your leg?"

"Better."

"That's great."

"What are you doing here, Himawari?"

Twinkling smugly, her golden eyes darted at him. "Finally getting curious of me?" she asked cheekily, but as expected, he was still nonchalant of her words. "Well, admittedly, it felt a bit lonely in that small hut when you left. Seclusion was nice and peaceful, but, well, it never guaranteed happiness. So, I was curious of your world and maybe thought why should I not spend a small while here."

Then, she rambled excitedly, "To be honest, I did not expect that everything changed so much when I last set foot here! Not many humans walk by foot anymore...they used these iron vehicles called cars and trains! Oh! And there's just so many things down here that I've only heard in rumors but I never knew they would be this...this _intriguing_! Human clothes are lovely too! I never realized it when I wore it for the first time! More unrestricted and various...more various in styles and colors than what I used to wear."

The dark-haired onmyoji huffed. "You seemed pleased over something so pointless."

"More than pleased, mind you," she confirmed, her arms crossed and her chin tipped. "After all, I've lived as a hermit all my life."

"You've been spending time with Yura."

Himawari smiled at the thought of her companion. "Well, I occasionally invite her for a meal or a lesson or two in cooking," she admitted mirthfully. "But it was coincidence. I never expected to meet your sister at all when I came here."

"She talks a lot about you."

"And you didn't suspect anything?"

"No."

"I guess I wouldn't blame you for that," she said acceptingly, her eyes softening. After all, she did lose faith in meeting him again after all those days of swanning around the streets of Kyoto. There even came a point she tried to diminish those lingering thoughts of him through openly socializing with other people, whether yokai or human. "It's been more than a year since we last saw each other and it almost seemed impossible meeting you again."

Lightening the mood between them, she queried boldly, "Ah, which reminds me, still haven't found a decent girlfriend yet?"

He frowned at the thought. "I don't need one."

Her eyes rolled as response. Typical. "Oh _please._ You're just saying that because you still have that huge stick shoved up your ass. Loosen up a little."

He quipped, "It's not like you're going to have one with that eccentric personality of yours."

Placing her hands on her hips, she argued back, "Mind you, at least I experienced a date with a man."

His brow cocked. "A date?"

For a moment, she grew timid for shamelessly opening that personal matter to him as she slightly cringed at the sight of his prying glare. "It was just one time," she cleared her throat and composed herself. "But he was kind and polite unlike you."

Her disclosure simply earned her a huff. "I'm surprised he manged to endure _you_."

"I'm not surprised that the only girl who'll love you is your sister."

Although his snarky mouth was quelled, he made sure to shoot her with his nipping glower.

Sure, it was intimidating, but being a person who became immune to his scowls she did not break under his intense glare.

Much to his surprise, she simply chortled.

"Bickering with you is still quite amusing." The tanuki yokai replied blithely in between her tittering. As her laughter slowly began to subside, the curve on her lips turned into a rueful simper than the usual, bright grin. "You know, I won't last long here. I'll eventually go back, and who knows, maybe I won't come back at all." Her golden orbs glanced above the starless sky, which made the streetlamps below grow brilliant.

Ryuji did not utter a response but was still and silent as his gaze traveled at the empty alleyways.

A cold gale intervened, making her dark locks dance with the wind.

"We might not meet again till then."

A pregnant silence crept between the pair.

_Nothing to say? Thought so. _A sigh rolled off her mouth as she tucked a stray strand of her hair to her ear. "But for the time being, I'll relish my time here." She beamed disarmingly as if to make him not mull about her words.

Then, she inched closer to him, facing him, while he simply arched a brow at her. "And one last thing, I've been meaning to do this..." her hand was raised on her forehead while her toes were tipped. "I've always wanted to say that you're actually quite short than I anticipated. Really, I bet without your geta, you're in the same height as me."

Ironically, she still had the gall to taunt him albeit his shikigami was near his reach and he could end her life for retaliation.

Twitching a brow in vexation, he carped, "Shut it, yokai."

"You didn't have to call me that again."

She chuckled softly.

_I should stop fooling around more often._

Hesitant at first, she took a step forward and gently wound her arms around him. Fortunately, he did not protest to her deed but was simply too dumbfounded to even move within her grasp. At least, he did not shove her away. The moment she felt him become less tense, her embrace around him tightened. It did not matter if he did return it or not, but as long as he did not cease her actions it was fine like this.

Did he allow her to continue this, though? She could not tell. "I hope you don't kill me for this." A warm smile curled her lips.

Himawari would have said she missed him but failed to do so with her clumsy tongue. She resisted the urge to curse under her breath, knowing it would be the wisest action to opt at the moment. She could tell him she missed him some other day, but now as she held him within her arms, she would savor every moment of it dearly.

Finally releasing him, she said calmly with her amicable simper. "Well, I suppose this is where I leave for now."

His hand glided to his head, his fingers lightly ruffling his hair. "Right."

She stated before fleeing, "Ah, and please tell Yura-san that she can come to my apartment tomorrow for another meal. I plan on making Sukiyaki." As she began to tread away from him, she halted in a brief second and turned her gaze back at him. "You're welcome to come there too and you could bring your friend if you'd like."

Then, she finally left.

He sighed softly.

What a troublesome woman.

His ashen gaze settled at her direction. "I'll keep that in mind." Those words naturally left his mouth although her figure had already vanished.

He would have sworn her smile was brighter than the last time he saw it. That alone eased him and made him realize something he failed to admit to himself back in the past.

Her smile was beautiful.

* * *

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Nurarihyon no Mago.


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